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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952381">A Short Term Effect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakscene/pseuds/freakscene'>freakscene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blink-182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boys Kissing, M/M, and listening to the cure, by the way, idk how else to tag this lmao!!!!!!, oh and mark says the r slur, that’s pretty much it tbh sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:55:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakscene/pseuds/freakscene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mark and Tom get a night off during tour and decide to spend it listening to The Cure in their shitty touring van.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom DeLonge/Mark Hoppus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Short Term Effect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/campkkes/gifts">campkkes</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>we like to do a little bit of tomarking. for bogo i hate you!!!!!!alien emoji!!!!!!! sorry the summary is shit im real bad at this Lol!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was 9:27 on a Thursday night as Tom and Mark stood side to side, rifling through the CD section in some record store in some town neither of them cared enough about to remember the name of. Their band (granted, among others) was passing through on tour, and they were lucky enough to be able to stay in town for two days, allowing them all to get a feel for the local scene. So far though, it was pretty lame. </p><p>The fluorescent overhead lights of the store flickered, once, twice, as Tom grazed his fingers over the stores- scarce, but still pretty cool- CD collection. They didn’t have anything interesting that Tom didn’t already have, which sucked, but he still mentally praised the owner’s music taste. Tom stood for a while, trying to decide if any of the more random CDs looked cool enough to buy, when Mark nudged his side.</p><p>“Aw man, look, they’ve got Pornography. Ew, not actual porn, you freak, I fuckin’ hate you,” he added when Tom’s head shot up. “You’ve heard this, right?” Mark held out the CD he’d picked up, the glare of the overhead light shining in Tom’s eye.</p><p>Tom winced slightly before laughing and taking the CD. He had heard the record at least a few times, with it being one of Mark’s favorites and all. (Not to mention the couple times he’d “borrowed” Mark’s copy while he was in high school and listened to it on nights he couldn’t get to sleep. It was interesting how much he listened to that record,  since he’d always preferred Three Imaginary Boys. At least, ‘til he met Mark.) Still, he decided to indulge his friend, knowing how excited Mark got when allowed to talk about his favorite things. Tom looked at the CD for a minute, turning it over in his hands. “Not in a while,” He responded, handing it back to Mark, whose jaw nearly dropped to the floor.</p><p>“No way,” Mark gaped, narrowing his eyes at the taller boy. “You’ve gotta get it then. Or else I will, and force you to listen to it.”</p><p>Tom shrugged. He wouldn’t mind listening to the record again, it was pretty good. Plus, it was Mark’s favorite.  “You’ve already got a copy, right? Lemme get it, give it here.”</p><p>Mark grinned at that as he handed the CD to Tom, and Tom smiled back. He mentally pumped his fist. He was, like, the best friend ever.</p><p>After browsing through the shelf one last time (and finding nothing of interest), the two made their way to the bored looking cashier, snickering at some stupid joke one of them made. As they got rung up, Tom glanced down at his friend. He watched as Mark shifted his weight back and forth and drummed his hands on the counter of the register. Was he nervous? Tom poked his side.</p><p>“You okay?” He half-whispered, not wanting to annoy the poor cashier any more than they already had.<br/>
</p><p> Mark nodded sharply. “Excited to listen to the CD,” He stopped moving for a brief moment, as if to consider what he was going to say next. (Which was weird, Tom thought, since Mark never thinks about what he says. The dude’s got something of a lack of a filter.) “With you,” Mark finally added, smiling before looking up at Tom.</p><p>“Oh,” Tom blinked, his stomach doing a backflip. “Oh, yea, me too.” His tongue suddenly felt heavy in his throat, his saliva like syrup, thick and gross and threatening to hold his words back. His face felt hot.</p><p>Tom watched helplessly as Mark stared at him for a moment before grabbing the CD as the cashier told them to have a nice night (or something along those lines, Tom wasn’t listening. He was focused on Mark looking at him and Mark’s blue eyes and Mark’s smile and Mark’s perfectly white teeth. Why could he feel his pulse in his cheeks? So weird.)</p><p>“Are you ready? C’mon, let’s go. We’re wastin’ daylight!” Mark said, nudging Tom’s foot with his own.</p><p>Tom blinked himself out of the trance he was in and laughed. “Dude, it’s like, nine. the daylight’s long gone by now.”</p><p>“Then we’re wastin’ moonlight! Whatever, just hurry up, you’re too slow.” Mark paraded out of the store as Tom apologetically dropped a couple dollars into the poor kid’s tip jar.</p><p>The two walked back to the van, shoulder to shoulder, one of them occasionally laughing loudly at something the other said.</p><p>Being on tour, they did spend a lot of time together. But it wasn’t often that they got to hang out alone anymore, usually surrounded by crew members or other bands or even fans (and if not, Scott and/or their manager were usually around.). Not tonight, though, since the rest of their crew were out partying or clubbing or whatever the hell they got up to. Tom didn’t care, really. He was just looking forward to spending a night dicking around and listening to music with Mark, just like the old times. Before the long tours and annoying merch tables and snooty crowds that pitied the band enough to stick around for a show, but not enough to buy any albums. It made him yearn for sluggish summer afternoons back in Poway, the two of them silently comfortable in each other's presence, not moving except to turn the record over.  </p><p>When they reached the van, Mark climbed in first, before turning and offering a hand to Tom with a stupid smile. Tom laughed. He really did feel like a kid again. He reached for Mark’s hand, limbs feeling like they were made of electricity, and let the older boy pull him into the van (and nearly on top of him).</p><p>The two had laid there on the dirty floor of the van for a while, inhaling and exhaling in time with each other, when Tom turned his head to make a joke to Mark, who was already looking at him through soft eyes. Eyes Tom knew shouldn’t be on him, but were anyways. His face flushed as a shiver went down his spine, like a 16 year old with a crush, which was embarrassing and stupid enough on its own, without the added fact that it was Mark who made him feel this way. His best friend.</p><p>Tom opened his mouth to say something, watching as Mark’s eyes glanced to his lips and then back up to his face. His face burned, and even in the darkness of the dirty van, he knew Mark could tell he was blushing.</p><p>“D’you wanna listen to the CD now?” Mark asked, softly, like he didn’t want to speak too loud and ruin the mood. Tom didn’t care if Mark ruined the mood, Mark pretty much made the mood wherever he went. Tom always admired him for that.</p><p>Tom nodded once, a shy smile growing at his lips. </p><p>Mark grinned back, blinking at Tom a final time before he sat up to retrieve his Discman from his bag. Tom watched the back of Mark’s neck as he dug through his belongings, cursing under his breath and throwing things that were in the way over his shoulder. Was he overthinking things? Was he misreading Mark’s body language? The last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship, the past 3 years being the best of his life. He’d finally found someone who understood him, who actually listened to him when he talked, who didn’t make him feel like an idiot. He couldn’t risk losing that. No fucking chance.</p><p>“Aha!” Mark held up the small CD player suddenly, shaking Tom out of his spiral. “Fuckin’ finally, my god, it was totally buried under, like, 5 pairs of underwear.”</p><p>Tom laughed and shoved Mark with his foot. “Okay, ew, that’s literally so gross. No way I’m touching that thing. You can do the honors.”</p><p>Mark crawled over to where the CD laid, half forgotten about, and gently picked it up like it was made of glass, before tearing the case open and sliding the CD into the Discman. “Sit back, Delonge, and get ready for 40 minutes of pure musical genius,” He said, poking Tom’s side and settling down next to him. Too close for Tom’s comfort, and he wished Mark would move over just a bit, or else he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from grabbing his friend by the sides of his face and—</p><p>The intro to One Hundred Years started suddenly, shaking Tom from his thoughts. He silently thanked the CD player gods, he was too old to be acting like a touch-starved 16 year old (although he was a touch-starved 19 year old. Which isn’t all that different in reality, but to Tom it mattered.)</p><p>“God,” Mark exhaled. “This album is fucking incredible.”</p><p>Tom giggled, kinda like a teenge girl, half because he thought it was sweet how much Mark liked The Cure, and half because he was incredibly fucking nervous. He decided it would be a good idea to try and ease his nerves with humor, something that had almost always worked for him before. “Dude, c’mon now, everyone and their mom knows about your massive crush on Robert Smith,” Tom teased, nudging Mark with his leg and watching as his friend’s face flashed about seven different emotions in the span of fifteen seconds.</p><p>“I don’t have a crush on him!” Mark sputtered, face growing more and more red by the second, and Tom absolutely cracking up at the sight.</p><p>“Yeah, right. He’s not half bad, I do have to say, just basic, I guess. Why be gay for the guy every goth person is obsessed with? There’s gotta be a more interesting choice,” Tom replied, watching in smug amusement as Mark’s cheeks somehow grew even redder.</p><p>“Man, now that’s just uncalled for. I’m only tryin’ to have a nice, relaxing night listening to my favorite album with my favorite person, but ohh, here come the gay Mark jokes. Look, I get it, but if you want me to be gay for you that badly, all you gotta do is ask, dude.” Mark joked back, inching his way closer to Tom, and Tom’s heart dropped to the bottom of his chest. Being honest, it probably sunk all the way through the middle of the earth and popped out on the other side, in China or Russia or something.</p><p>“Um,” Tom said, his brain scrambling to think of something funny to say. His pulse sped up. He could feel it in his hands and feet and cheeks. God, that’s embarrassing. Mark could probably hear the pounding in his chest from how close he’d gotten.</p><p>“What’s the matter, Tom?” Mark asked, the face of innocence as he nudged Tom to where his back was against the wall of the van. Tom swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry, and Mark smiled a shit-eating grin at him. That fucking bastard.</p><p>“Nothing, what? Haha, what’re you talking about, dude, I’m fine.” Tom half smiled, trying to ignore how shaky he felt.</p><p>Mark narrowed his eyes and stopped moving. “That’s a lie.”</p><p>“No, it isn’t,” Tom lied.</p><p>Mark sighed. “Tom, I’ve known you for how long now? Three years, right? We’re practically inseparable. I like to think I know you better than most people. I can tell when you’re lying. I know the face you make when you’d rather die than have to work the merch table. I know your favorite flavor of gum. I know you took fucking drama class when you got transferred to Poway High. And I know you act like you hated it, like you only took it to make up a credit or whatever, but you actually really liked it. I know you, Tom. And you know me. Right? We’re best friends. I’ve been by your side through everything, I remember when your parents were getting divorced so you stayed at my apartment and you cried. And I held you, ‘cuz I’m your best friend. Do you remember that?” Tom nodded, which was apparently good enough for Mark, as he started moving again, painfully slow, and lifted his leg up and over Tom’s, so he was sitting on his knees, over Tom’s lap. The two of them breathed in sync with each other, inhaling and exhaling in time to the music filling the van. The air between them was hot, like if Mark lowered himself onto Tom’s lap, Tom’s skin might catch fire. And hot in the other way, too.</p><p>Tom felt like he was going to die. Maybe he’d already died, and had gone to heaven. Or hell, actually. Hell seemed more accurate, because there was no fucking way this was real. He swallowed, thickly, suddenly acutely aware of the silence between them as the CD played on. It was on the third track now, and yes, Tom still had the tracklist memorized. Maybe he’d stolen Mark’s CD more than just a few times in high school.</p><p>“Hey,” Mark asked, gently, bringing a hand to Tom’s cheek. “Is this okay?”</p><p>Tom nodded again, probably too enthusiastically, and pressed his lips together. It was so much more than okay, but he was scared if he tried to speak, all his deepest darkest secrets would pour out of him like a floodgate. It was kind of ironic, actually, out of all his stupid teenage boy fantasies where Mark confessed his love to him, not one of them went like this— the two of them, on the floor of their band’s dirty van, listening to the fucking Cure. It was so violently Tom-and-Mark that it almost made Tom laugh. But that would have ruined the moment, so instead he bit the inside of his cheek and watched as Mark gently lowered himself onto Tom’s lap.</p><p>And holy fucking shit. If Tom wasn’t dead before, he definitely was now. He wanted to say something, anything, but his brain was going a million miles a minute and if he even tried he’d probably start stuttering and make a fool of himself.</p><p>Mark laughed, short and stilted and fake-sounding, and scrubbed his other hand over his face. “Shit, man, if we’re being honest here, I didn’t really expect to get this far.”</p><p>Tom was surprised at that, and before he could stop himself, he asked, “Whaddya mean?”</p><p>“I mean, um,” Mark adjusted the way he was sitting slightly and Tom bit the inside of his cheek again. “I dunno, I didn’t think you’d let me do this. I’m kinda into you, if you haven't noticed.”</p><p>Tom blinked. “No way,” He said, again, without thinking. Jesus, he never wanted to punch himself in the face more than he did in this moment.</p><p>Mark laughed, a real laugh this time, and threw his head back, which made Tom start to laugh too. This was starting to feel more natural. “Yes way, you retard, holy shit,” Mark managed to say after his laughing fit had mostly subsided.</p><p>“Heeeeey, quit laughing at me,” Tom fake whined, lightly hitting Mark on the arm. “I’m neeeervous.”</p><p>Mark wheezed, laughing again, and leaned forward to where his forehead was laying on Tom’s shoulder. “You are so fucking stupid, you’re so stupid,” He laughed into Tom’s shirt. He stayed like that for a while, and Tom wondered if his friend had fallen asleep or something. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to say next, Tom realized. Shit, he never said he was into Mark too. Maybe Mark thought he wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was. Shit, shit, shit. Tom poked Mark’s side, harder than he meant to, and he mentally apologized. (It’s hard to focus on motor skills when the guy you've had a crush on since you were in high school is on your lap, okay!)</p><p>“Hey, Mark,” Tom said, digging his finger into Mark’s side again when he didn’t react. “I’m into you too, stupid.”</p><p>Mark sat back up at that, a smile creeping across his face. “You know, I could totally tell. I just didn’t wanna do anything about it, since I’m evil and I hate you.”</p><p>Tom rolled his eyes and half-shoved him. “Oh, fuck you. I can’t even be serious for one second with you. You suck, you reeeally do.”</p><p>“Sure do,” Mark winked and Tom felt all the air leave his lungs in one quick exhale. “But, that’s not what this,” He gestured to the CD player, and then to himself and Tom, “is about.”</p><p>Tom tilted his head to the side, half confused, half disappointed. He was still a teenage boy, after all.</p><p>“What I’m trying to say here is, and sorry if this isn’t the most romantic thing in the world, I’m kinda shit at that and you know it, but can I kiss you? I’ve wanted to for, um, a while.” Mark said, his tone suddenly serious. It might’ve been Tom’s imagination, but he could have sworn Mark almost sounded shy. Or nervous, or something.</p><p>Tom blinked at him for a moment, mind racing to think of something funny, til he decided against it. There’s a time and place for that shit, and now didn’t really seem like the greatest time. Sure, it was still them, it was still Tom and Mark, but it was just different. Instead, he decided on nodding and simply replying, “Yea, yea, that’d be nice.”</p><p>Mark looked at him with an unreadable expression, before exhaling shakily and slowly leaning in. Tom watched for a moment before realizing, shit, he should probably close his eyes. It had been a while since he kissed someone, what if he’s bad, holy fuck. He kinda started to panic, so he screwed his eyes shut and just waited for it to happen. There’s nothing he could really do about it now.</p><p>Tom felt Mark’s lips brush his own, almost uncertainly, and a shock went down his spine. He leaned in, wanting to feel Mark’s mouth against his, rather than just a light graze. Mark pushed back, all his confidence returned, and brought his hands up to the back of Tom’s neck. Tom all but melted into the touch, and he sighed against Mark. He could faintly taste Mark’s last cigarette, as well as whatever kind of soda he’d had for dinner. Coke, maybe?</p><p>Tom slowly slid his hand under Mark’s shirt, just barely touching skin, and felt Mark shiver underneath his touch.</p><p>The kiss didn’t deepen, the two of them sitting on the floor of their dirty touring van, but it was still the best kiss Tom had had in a long time. Maybe even ever. It definitely beat the shitty makeout sessions he’d had with girls underneath the bleachers back in high school.</p><p>When Mark pulled away, Tom almost whined at the loss of contact and tugged on the hem of Mark’s shirt, which caused him to laugh lightly.</p><p>“This has been, like, a dream of mine since… A while,” Mark exhaled, his hands still on the back of Tom’s neck, absentmindedly messing with the short hair there. Tom couldn’t do anything but smile lazily, feeling drunk on the feeling of Mark on his lap and Mark’s hands in his hair and Mark kissing him just moments prior.</p><p>“I think. Um, maybe, we should do that more,” Mark said, suddenly, more of a statement than a question.</p><p>Tom thought that was probably the best idea Mark had ever had, and Mark had some pretty good ideas. Like climbing then jumping off of a street light to impress Tom, and shattering both his feet in the process. Or… Okay, maybe this was a shitty example. Nevermind.</p><p>“Yea, please,” Tom nodded, still feeling like he was made of jelly. They were then quiet for a minute, listening to the music fill the van. It was on the fourth track on the album now, Siamese Twins, Tom recognized it. Mark hummed along to the music, which Tom found really endearing, and without thinking, he admitted, “I used to steal your copy of this album when I was in high school. I’d play it whenever I couldn’t sleep, or whenever I was having a shit day, ‘cuz it reminded me of you,” and clapped a hand over his mouth when he realized what he’d said.</p><p>“So that’s where it would go!” Mark smiled down at him, and maybe it was the dim lighting, but Tom could’ve sworn his friend was blushing. “That’s actually really sweet, Tom, I’m glad you told me.”</p><p>Tom hummed in response before leaning his head back against the wall of the van. It couldn’t be past ten, and he was assuming everyone else would be out until the early morning (or at least much later). He licked his lips absentmindedly and tasted Mark, which made him shudder. “Hey, can we kiss again?” He said, again without thinking. Shit, he really needed to work on that.</p><p>Mark looked up for a second, thinking, probably trying to figure out about what time it was, before looking back down at Tom with a soft expression. “Yea, totally,” He smiled and leaned in, more sure of himself this time.</p><p>Tom felt fireworks go off in his head as their lips collided again, and he figured he could stay here, in this moment, forever. He kind of wished he could. It was definitely going to be a scene he replayed over and over again in his head, probably constantly. The taste of Mark, stale cigarettes and soda and some shitty off brand chapstick, would linger on his lips for days. It was honestly funny, Tom thought, he’d been across the country, he’d seen Los Angeles and New York and everywhere in between, but still, there was nowhere he’d rather be than in their shitty beat-up van listening to The Cure, in a small town he didn’t know the name of, in some state he didn’t care about.</p>
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